


Espresso

by everythingcollided



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Best Friends, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Romance, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 10:44:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15580212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingcollided/pseuds/everythingcollided
Summary: What do you get when you add together two exhausted teenagers and a limited Spanish vocabulary?





	Espresso

The thing about Peter is that he loves violently, but silently.

He doesn’t say it, but his goodbyes are laced with a mix of _I don’t want you to go_ and _I can’t wait to talk to you again._ He gets this spark in his eyes when his Aunt May teases him and even though he’s really inconspicuous about it, he leans into touches. A hand on the shoulder, that complicated handshake he has with Ned, _a hug._ Around those he loves his dark eyes turn into warm honey and a smile molds onto his lips like it’s meant to be there. It _is_ meant to be there.

I think he’s that way because after losing his parents, he understands how much humans crave recognition and love from one another. That’s one way we’re equal; we all love. It makes us weak, and it makes us strong. It’s uncontrollable and a lot of us don’t want it to happen, but it does. Love is one thing we can’t fight off.

The first day I met Peter - Freshman year, lost and doing a terrible job at avoiding getting trampled - I knew that we’d be friends. He was all shy and careful, picking at the sleeves of his dark blue sweater and stuttering as he handed my dropped notebooks back to me. Those eyes kept darting anywhere but to mine and pink had found a habitat at the tips of his ears. He’d been the most adorable thing I’d ever seen.

We became friends surprisingly quick. Lab partners in chemistry and later a suffering duo in Spanish, we found our compatibility through studying. He learned that coffee was the only thing keeping my brain tied together enough to comprehend foreign languages and I learned that colorful flashcards were the only way to keep him focused enough to remember things.

And soon that spark in his eyes belonged to me, too. He’s vulnerable around those he trusts; funny but scared when he wants to be. My feelings for him grew so fast over the months we spent together, but I think I knew I was a goner from that first day.

Now we sit on his bed opposite one another, Starbucks coffee sitting in the nursery of my crossed legs and index cards reading Spanish in colors ranging from cerulean to bright orange scattered around his bedspread. The clock reads _1:16 am_ in bold red numbers and I know that neither of us are getting rest soon because our Spanish exam is at eight later today and we’re severely unprepared because we spent too much time pigging out on the couch and having movie marathons.

I tear off a piece of my sloppily written notes to ball up and throw at Peter, whose eyes are sliding shut. He jumps violently at the light thump smack dab in the middle of his forehead and sends me a thankful grumble before grabbing a random stack of cards and shuffling through them. His hair is a pile of messy curls, the usually gelled up style ruined by the midnight shower he’d taken earlier. I personally loved it natural and hated how much it’d begun to distract me. I just... _ugh_ I wanted to run my fingers through it.

_God, Jess you’re getting too tired. Stop it._

I take a big gulp out of my cup before scanning over my paper and grabbing a separate stack from the one I know Peter is barely comprehending in front of me, hand smooshed against his cheek to keep his head upright and blinking furiously to keep himself awake.

“Okay,” A yawn sneaks past my lips. “What does _Mi amigo y yo_ fuimos _a la tienda hoy_ translate to?”

Peter stares at me with cloudy eyes for a good five seconds before he groans. “Can we please take a break for like five minutes?” He rubs at his eyes. “I’m suffering here, Jess.”

I purse my lips in response. “Do you want to take Spanish again?”

“Just five minutes! Come on.” He hits me with the puppy dog eyes - _that cheater_ \- and I sigh because I know I’ve lost.

“Fine. Five minutes, but you have to tell me what it translates to.”

Peter sighs and grumbles sleepily - but adorably - as he reaches for the paper on my binder. The dark brown eyes that are similar to melted chocolate in the minor yellow lamp light scan the lines for a while before he slams it down. His lips quirk up and it’s then that I decide that I either need to get a grip on myself or go to sleep because the urge to kiss him almost overcomes me.

“My friend and I went to the store today.” With a nod from me he groans. “Good. Wake me up at _1:25_ and then we can crush it.”

I giggle as he releases the hold on his cheek and collapses against the mattress, soft snores coming from him in no time. I try to go over material some more but he looks _so cute_ and I can’t focus when he’s _existing_ like that.

I move a curl out of his face with a gentle touch of my fingertips and with a sudden surge of confidence whisper, “ _Tengo un_ flechazo contigo _, Peter Parker._ ”

I regret it immediately.

I rub my eyes in frustration. _Why would I tell him that I have a crush on him? What if he heard? What if he thinks I’m some freak?_ I’ve never hated being tired so much before.

I poke him with my pencil and twisted nerves when the specified time comes around and avoid his eyes while he composes himself, picking up the cards with newfound determination.

We quiz each other back and forth until my coffee is drained and now an empty container thrown onto the floor. My brain feels like mush but I’m trying my hardest to push through. My errors on translating Peter’s sentences are getting more frequent and I’m running out of steam.

He notices. “Ok, how about I give you one more and then we both get some sleep?” When he sees my unsure expression, he adds, “I promise we can wake up early and study some more, Jess. You just...you look like you’re going to collapse.”

He’s right. I need sleep. I’ll say something stupid again if I keep on.

So I nod. Peter taps his pencil against his knee as he contemplates the next sentence. “ _Tú también me_ gustas _.”_

_I_

_like_

_you_

_too._

My mouth falls open and the heat rushes to my cheeks fast. I sit there a stuttering mess before I can finally get out, “You-You _faker._ ”

Peter laughs. The little shit _laughs._

But his cheeks and ears are red and his eyes are sparkling and I can hear the nerves hiding in the octaves of his voice. _Wait wait,_ my brain finally joins the party, _he likes me too._

_Peter Parker has a crush on me._

My entire body freezes up and it seems Peter’s exhausted mind has caught up too because his laughter has stopped and he’s watching me with wide and anticipating eyes.

_It’s your move, Jess._

Screw it. I’m drunk on fatigue, only spurred on by the small amount of espresso stirring around my system, and the guy I like has just admitted his feelings to me.

Maybe regular everyday Jess would freak out in this situation.

But tired Jess _is going for it._

I watch him, sitting up tensely, analyzing my every move with those eyes - _those eyes_ \- and construct my plan. Shifting slowly on the mattress, I move closer to him, so close that I can make out the dark flecks scattered around his iris, even more so when they widen. He gulps harshly and I submerge myself in that familiar spark that sends my stomach tumbling.

Peter melts into my hands when they’re placed against his cheeks and he finally meets my gaze with so much hope that I feel like collapsing against him. I raise my eyebrows slightly- _can I kiss you?_

Air leaves his mouth. A nod. Electricity thrums throughout my limbs.

When our lips meet Peter’s arms fall around my waist as if magnetized. My chest tightens harshly, and I know it’s because my heart wants to explode with all of the care I feel radiating off of the boy in front of me. He’s so gentle, from the way he’s reciprocating to the way his thumb strokes against my back. I can see us doing this more often, stealing kisses in the mornings and between classes, Peter’s arms around my shoulders and a smile that’s reserved for me. _Just for me._

The soft contact doesn’t last long, but we’re both breathing heavily when we pull away.

Peter stares at me from underneath those eyelashes, lidded eyes doing something to my organs. He lightly presses his nose to mine. “You taste like coffee.”

We both laugh, hard, because we’re drunk on affection and hours of comprehension, but we stay close. Holding each other, standing on our knees. He smells like shampoo and the body wash I got him for his birthday and I want to stay right here, with him, for as long as I can.

“Something you could get used to?” I ask softly. The sudden anxiety that curls up in my stomach catches me off guard. This all happened so fast. _What if he has second thoughts? What if this is just him being tired and not genuine? What if I just screwed up everything we’d built together?_

“Yeah,” He answers, and my thoughts are quiet. He swiftly presses a kiss to my forehead and returns with a large smile that breaks down my doubt in a millisecond. “Definitely something I could get used to.”

Later, when we're cuddled up together in a hurricane of colorful cards to finally shut our eyes, he presses a kiss to my collarbone and mutters how glad he was to find me on that first day. And I know that I was right.

The thing about Peter is that he loves violently, but silently.

I’m happy to say that some of that love is reserved for me, too.


End file.
